Confessional
by with eyes looking up
Summary: Draco seeks solace in a ghost and Hermione wonders if the Dark Lord doesn't have a part in this. No real pairings. Book 6.


**confessional**  
><em>featuring<em>  
>draco malfoy<br>hermione granger

moaning myrtle

-/-

Hermione Granger really, really had to pee. Her books in her arms, she raced down the empty corridors, searching for a bathroom. Unfortunately she would be late for Potions, but at this point she couldn't bring herself to care. She just really had to pee.

"Bathroom, bathroom, please give me a bathroom..." she pleaded, then cheered instantly upon seeing one. As she entered the large room, she realized that was the last bathroom she willingly wanted to be in. Groaning, she glanced around caught Moaning Myrtle frowning at her.

"What are you doing in my bathroom?" She demanded, her nasally voice grating on Hermione's already frazzled nerves.

"What do you think I'm doing?" she retorted in response, dropping her books and bag by the wall. Myrtle gave her an annoyed stare which Hermione only gladly returned; she never really liked the whiny ghost, anyway. Hustling into a stall, she noticed Myrtle violently fly into one of the urinals with a toe-curling screech. The thought that Myrtle caught be on her way to Hermione's toilet freaked her out a little, but she _really_ had to go. Making quick work of the toilet in case Myrtle got any ideas, Hermione straightened her clothing and sighed in relief, going to the sink. After thoroughly washing her hands, she grabbed a few paper towels, and paused upon hearing footsteps.

"...Myrtle?" A suspiciously deep, husky voice questioned for the other side of the sinks. Hermione furrowed her brows, wondering who exactly if might be, and glanced at the toilet the ghost had disappeared into. She remained silent, listening to the faltering footsteps draw closer. "Myrtle, I need to talk to you." The voice wavered and cracked in the middle, and suddenly, Hermione knew.

_Malfoy_, her voice connected in horror, glancing around for an escape. She could only imagine what the muggle-hating Slytherin would do if he caught her alone. Not that Hermione doubted her abilities as a witch, she just knew the extent of the blond's hatred for her, and it made her slightly queasy. Hermione carefully picked up her bag and reached for her books, freezing as Malfoy walked by, searching the toilets.

"Dammit, Myrtle," he cursed, and she noticed he sounded...broken. Hurt, even, as if he felt Myrtle was avoiding him. Hermione frowned, slowly scooting around the pillar of sinks, her eyes on Draco's back. She left her books where they lay, not wanting to make anymore noise than necessary. None of this made sense, she decided. Why would Malfoy want to talk to Myrtle? She's a muggle-born. _Like me_. Hermione made it around the pillar just as Draco turned, heading for the sinks; she peered around them and watched as he loosened his tie desperately.

Draco Malfoy, be it not for his git-like qualities, was disturbingly good looking. His hair was a shining blond, flat against his head. He had eyes as gray and flat as slate that seemed to mock every move you made. His face was all angles—sharp nose, pointed chin, high cheekbones. Hermione let her eyes sweep over his face indulgently before pausing; she now noticed the thin sheen of sweat beading on his brow, the wild expression in his eyes. _What's his problem?_ She wondered just as his face crumpled, shattering into an expression of agony.

"Dammit, Myrtle, you said you would help me through this!" he yelled, pounding his fist onto the sink. His voice echoed in the cavernous bathroom and then faded into tense silence. Hermione cringed at his expression. "I can't-...I can't do it, Myrtle." he whispered, almost to himself. "He's going to..." his voice wavered off into beautifully broken mumbles, and Hermione took another step back. His pained expression had her reeling—never had she seen Draco that terrified, and for a moment she felt terribly close to sympathetic. Hermione watched as Malfoy caught sight of something in the mirror from over his shoulder. He turned sharply and his gaze landed on what she presumed to be her books, leaning innocently against the wall. _Bloody hell_, she cursed to herself, _I've got to get out of here._ With only seconds to escape cleanly, Hermione turned and began her run towards the door.

Suddenly, her foot caught on a pipe and with a horrified gasp, Hermione fell backwards, book bag flying across the floor and out of her hands. She absently realized that her things were now scattered across the bathroom floor, and that her pants were soaked through with who knows what. And that her skull was pounding from where she hit it on the corner of the sink. She glanced up with a grimace and saw that Malfoy was standing above her, his expression one of shocked rage. "Granger?" he growled, squatting at her side as she nursed her pounding head. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

She glanced down and saw his wand pointed threateningly – by his shaking hand – at her chest. She eyed it, then slowly lifted herself into a sitting position. "I was using the bathroom for its intended purposes," she informed him, "before you came in and started yelling." She narrowed her eyes at him, forcing the pain into the back of her mind. "What were _you_ doing, Malfoy?"

She could see the answers tumbling in his mind. His eyes glanced around the room and for a moment, Hermione could feel fear pumping through her veins. It made the ache in her head that much worse and soundlessly, she shoved away his hand. Disbelief raged in his eyes, as if he didn't think she would have the guts to stand up to him. "I was..." he trailed off, pausing, "...looking for Myrtle."

"Yes, she's helping you through 'this'." Hermione watched as his face turned even more sickly white, curious. "What, exactly, is 'this'?"

Without a moment to spare, Malfoy was up and across the room, pacing. "None of your bloody business!" he shouted, agitated. Hermione remained in her position on the floor, deciding it wouldn't be smart to make him any more nervous. She slipped her hand slowly into her robes, watching him carefully. Her wand was _so close_-

"Leave it, Granger," he breathed, pointing his own wand at her. His eyes has taken on that strange, untamed glow again. He looked more alive than she'd ever seen him.

"Relax, Malfoy," she murmured in an attempt to calm him, "no one needs to be hexed today."

"How much did you hear?" he demanded, his voice breathy and nervous. "Tell me, Granger, or I'll-"

"I heard everything," she interrupted, "all of it. But I have no idea what you're talking about. Tell me." She hesitated, "...maybe I can help you."

"You?" he laughed incredulously, his hand quivering, "you, a filthy mudblood, help me?"

Hermione would never admit it, but the word stung. Every time she heard it, the cool facade she put up shattered just a little more, and Hermione scowled at him angrily. She shot up into a standing position and pointed her own wand at him, displeased at the harsh throbbing that resulted. "Yes, me. The 'filthy mudblood' that is sick and tired of hearing that word from your mouth, Malfoy. You know that Myrtle is a 'mudblood' too, right? You seem quite comfortable with her. A little too comfortable, I think." she accused, her lips curled down in anger. Malfoy stared down at her wand, then at her in half amusement, half disbelief.

"You think I'm shagging a ghost, do you?"

"I never said that." She told him, but couldn't help the pearl of laughter bubbling up at the thought. Maybe it was the adrenaline, but she felt oddly relieved that she wasn't being hexed at this point. She lowered her wand minimally and watched as Draco did the same. They stared at each other in tense silence for a moment, she taking in his disheveled appearance and he, surveying her critically. "Seriously, Malfoy, what is your issue?" The question was was and gentle, trying to convince him to tell her.

"I...can't tell you. I can't tell anyone." Draco shoved his wand in his robes and turned, heading for the exit. His footsteps were loud and hurried and guilty. He passed the toilets and glances in hopefully, then continued on. Hermione watched, frowning.

"Draco," she called out, making him stop, "is this 'he'...Voldemort?" The name seared her tongue. She instantly bit down on her lip, watching him go rigidly tense. From behind, she could see the fear seeping out of his hunched shoulders, the shame etched into his defensive stance. She knew, then, that she was right. Hermione took a step forward and ignored the puddle seeping into her shoes. "What is he going to do, Draco? Tell me, we can help you."

Draco Malfoy turned, and when she caught a glimpse of his face, shivers brushed up and down her spine. It was cold, pale, covered in a thin sheen of nervous sweat, but his expression was that of deadly sincerity. "Do not," he murmured to her, "say his name." Without another word, the blond was out the door and Hermione waited for his footsteps to fade before sinking bonelessly to the floor. Her heart was pounding erratically in her chest and goosebumps dotted her arms. She let out a shaky sigh and rubbed the bumps away, looking around. The bathroom was eerily silent, and in the silence, she began picking up her strewn things. Just as she was picking up her books, a familiar voice at her ear made her jump.

"You're still here?" Myrtle shrieked in her ear, arms flailing.

"I'm leaving, relax!" Hermione scowled at her, shivering as one of the ghost's arms passed through her head. She quickly took her leave, but paused as a lone thought entered her mind. "Hey, Myrtle..."

"What." the girl snapped, her arms crossed.

"...how do you know Draco Malfoy?"

For a moment, the girl seemed surprised at the question. Then, slowly, her ghostly visage transformed into one of knowing humor; her lips curled upwards and a small, shameless laugh escaped her mouth. "Draco Malfoy..." she smiled widely, "...I don't know who you're talking about. Does he go to school here?" Her voice was a little too amused for that to be innocent, and Hermione glared at her angrily. Myrtle met the glare with one of her own, uncrossing her arms. "Now get out of my bathroom!"

Hermione Granger took a final look around and, sighing in frustration, began her trek to Potions.

–/-

**Wowwww, I love Dramione even thought this wasn't really Dramione...hm...  
>Anyway, reviews would be lovely! :) <strong>


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